


Just the Touch of Your Love

by Herlilacskies



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 00:24:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herlilacskies/pseuds/Herlilacskies
Summary: Stiles wants Derek, then thinks Derek has an s/o, then it's all resolved.





	Just the Touch of Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler for _Endgame_.
> 
> Sex, but not explicit.
> 
> Not great, but writing small fics is hard. Also, I just wanted to be done with this. Un-betad.

Stiles has been trying to ignore his long-standing crush on Derek Hale since he finally realized Derek is completely straight and Stiles has no chance. It was...a pretty rude awakening. 

~ 

Derek had been driving Stiles to school the past week because the jeep was in the shop due to...complications. Stiles was in the passenger seat talking about an upcoming project in class he couldn’t wait to start. Then Derek’s phone made a noise of an incoming text. Stiles has no idea why and never will know why he did this, but he cuts himself off and turns to Derek, asking who it is. Derek pulled out his phone and he looked a little uncomfortable before he replied, _Sam_. Stiles had had a sudden realization and just smiled and said, _That’s nice_, as genuinely as possible. He didn’t say anything the rest of the ride to the school and ignored the feeling of Derek’s eyes on the side of his face. 

~ 

That was yesterday so today Stiles is taking the bus because he needs to stay away from Derek until the longing for him crumbles away and it’s just platonic love, not heart-aching and unattainable love. Stiles just wants someone to want him back. His mother made sure he knew he deserves everything in the world. He just wishes he hadn’t gotten so enthralled and captivated by Derek’s everything, even his emotionally-stuntedness. 

Stiles pulls at his backpack straps and shivers because it’s cold and the bus still isn’t here. Why is it this cold in the fall? And in California? Stiles watches a kid coming down the sidewalk toward the bus stop and shakes his head in dismay—the dude has no coat. The bus comes just as a few kids come into view and start running. Stiles files onto the bus and they wait for the stragglers. 

At school, the five-minute bell is ringing when Stiles make it through the doors and he remembers why he was so grateful to finally be driving to school in ninth grade. The bus is always late. Just a few more days, he tells himself as he makes his way to his first hour. 

“You rode the bus,” Erica accuses. “Derek said you said your dad was driving you.” 

Stiles drops his bag next to his desk and falls into his chair with a heavy sigh. “I set myself up for heartbreak and I’m waiting for the pain to overwhelm me.” Erica glares at him for a few seconds before whacking him upside the head, demanding an explanation. Stiles leans away with his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, damn, Catwoman. Calm yourself.” Stiles straightens up and explains that he’s had a realization. “I was in the Camaro and he got a text and it was just so...sudden with no feeling at all. Just cold, hard facts of heterosexuality. It just became so abundantly clear that Derek _did not_ want,” he gestures wildly at himself, “this.” A few fingers touch his chest and he mutters, “Me.” 

“Bullshit,” Erica nearly growls at him. A few heads turn towards them and she sneers at them. 

“Some girl was texting him the other morning. Friends don’t text at seven in the morning, Erica.” He says it like it’s happened and he’s already over it, he’s afraid he’s going to have an unscheduled outburst and it’ll really hit him. He’s dreading the inevetable. 

Erica lowers her voice and says, “I can’t believe that, Stiles. Derek doesn’t talk to girls, especially not after Jennifer.” There’s a moment of silence as they remember how close to death she and Boyd were. 

After a few more seconds, Stiles says, “It could have been a guy, I guess.” He hates saying it but knows it’s the reality of the situation. Erica’s just trying to be a good friend because Stiles was friends with her before Derek ever was—Stiles made sure that friendship happened, by the way, he’s always helped when it came to Derek’s pack. His pack. 

Scott had to move down to San Fransisco and after a while of no communication, Deaton admitted he’d given Scott drugs to give the impression that he was a true Alpha. Stiles...wasn’t really surprised, he’d always asked himself, why Scott, because Scott was morally righteous and didn’t want the bad people to die. That’s not smart. Derek isn’t morally righteous and he’s willing to kill the bad people—he’s perfect. 

“Stiles,” Erica shakes her head. “It just can’t be.” The minute bell rings and she adds, “You guys are meant to be. Derek’s just a little slow, you know.” Stiles does know. Anyone who Derek lets know him knows how he is. Stiles grabs a folder from his backpack and a pen, trying not to think about another guy knowing Derek the way Stiles does. 

Stiles goes through the rest of his day and that’s the last he hears of Derek. Until he gets to practice and Isaac is talking to Boyd about the pack movie night. Stiles wants to go, he really does, they’re watching _Endgame_ and Stiles has waited for this for months. Is he really going to let Derek be the reason he not go? 

Practice ends and Stiles is still debating on whether or not he should go. As he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants, Isaac says, “I can’t wait for tomorrow.” And he knows he can’t not go. But Derek and Stiles always takeover the loveseat and Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll make it through the night. What if he has an emotional breakdown at the loft? You kow what, fuck his feelings, Stiles is going to watch the movie of the century tomorrow and fuck his feelings for Derek trying to fuck him over. Fuck everything until after he’s watched _Endgame_. Then, and only then, can his feelings fuck him over. 

On Friday, he actually does have his dad take him to school, he walks in, very much so, before the five-minute bell rings. He gets there before Erica and when she sees him, she says, “We could have picked you up, you know that.” Stiles nods because he knows he could have but he just didn’t want them to go out of their way. He also didn’t want them to accidentally tell Derek Stiles has been lying. That probably wouldn’t be great. 

It’s Friday night and Stiles is biting his nails as he watches the clock on his wall tick closer and closer to seven. When they have pack nights, Stiles is usually at the loft after school ends, helping Derek set up and get food or just hanging around Derek for the fun of it. The clock ticks a few minutes past six-thirty and Stiles’ phone chimes with a notification. _You coming_? From Derek. Stiles texts: _Yeah, of course. It’s_ Endgame. 

Stiles gets to the loft just after Jackson and Lydia arrive. Almost everyone’s taken their seats and there’s an empty spot next to Derek. Stiles’ eyes dart to Derek’s and he’s staring right at Stiles, his brows scrunched together in slight confusion, possible bewilderment. Stiles looks between the spot and Derek’s pretty face for far too many seconds to not be noticed by half the pack. When he realizes all the unwanted attention is on him, he barely restrains a meep as he walks over to the two-seater and takes a seat. He doesn’t stretch out like he usually does and it doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone, even Jackson eyes Stiles. 

The rest of the night Stiles tries his hardest to stay focused on the movie, but it’s incredibly difficult when he has to catch himself before he touches Derek. It’s become instinctual over the last few years, Derek is always right there and Stiles needs to touch. He needs to hug, pat, grab, he needs physical connections. And Derek has never minded since Stiles started. 

Stiles knows he’s getting weird looks from every single person in the room, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Is he supposed to cuddle up to Derek and pretend like he won’t be going home and crying—and not over the character deaths. Is he supposed to get up and sit on the floor and pretend like nothing’s happening? Stiles just really wants this to not be a thing when it so clearly is. Can’t they pretend everything isn’t tense and awkward? Can’t they? 

Apparently they can’t because seconds after Tony dies, everyone bolts out of there like the building is actually on fire. The Avengers are just starting to kneel when Stiles finds himself alone with Derek, both staring at the screen, but not actually paying attention to what’s going on. The credits roll for more than a minute before either of them speak. 

Stiles awkwardly turns away from the screen, but he doesn’t look at Derek, afraid of what he’ll see in his face. He starts to get up, “I should be—” 

Derek grabs Stiles’ arm. “Sit. Down.” Stiles sits down, no witty or sarcastic reply wanting to slip off the tip of his tongue for once. It’s a terrible feeling. He’s terrified and feels like he could burst into tears or start yelling at Derek for several angry hours in a split-second. He stays quiet and waits for Derek to say something, anything. Seconds go by, which leads to minutes and Derek finally speaks. “What—Did I do something,” he asks, smally, devastated. 

“No,” Stiles immediately says, turning to face Derek. “No,” he repeats. Derek’s eyes are searching and too much, Stiles has to turn away. “No,” he says again, less urgently. “I’m sorry, OK. I just thought...I thought I could go cold turkey and it’d just go away. It hasn’t and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“Stiles...what are you talking about? Feelings? You don’t make me uncomfortable, Stiles. What happened?” 

“Nothing.” he shuts his eyes tightly and says, “I have _feelings_ for you, Derek.” Stiles looks at Derek, “Don’t you know?” Because he has to. He must. The entirety of the pack has figured it out. Derek’s not that oblivious. Right? Derek just stares at him and Stiles has a sudden and intense need to run. He mutters, getting up, “Oh, my God, you didn’t. I need to—I need to go. Now,” he urges, nearly running towards the door. Stiles slams into Derek in his haste to escape. “Please just let me leave, Derek. I’ll stop it, OK? I will. Just let me go.” 

“No,” Derek says. Before Stiles can say anything else, Derek is kissing him and Stiles is too overwhelmed and exhausted to do anything but widen his shining eyes. 

“Y—You kissed me,” he says, astonished and bewildered, his mouth hanging open, prettily. 

Derek nods, grinning. “I did.” 

Derek drops his hands to Stiles’ waist, which spurrs on a question. “I thought you had a girlfriend,” he barely whispers. Derek smiles, shaking his head. “Boyfriend,” he asks, clarifying. 

Derek smiles and pulls Stiles closer to himself, backing up against the door. He shakes his head, “No, Stiles, I’m all yours.” 

“Who’s Sam?” What? He can’t help it. 

Derek gets all awkward and shuttered as he uncertainly says, “My therapist.” 

Stiles smiles, “Really?” 

Derek smiles in return and nods, “Yeah.” 

Stiles kisses him and they don’t stop until their under the sheets and Stiles’ phone is ringing, somewhere downstairs, but only to clean themselves and go to bed. In the morning, when Stiles is listening to his voicemails in the morning his cheeks are pink and he’s radiating mortification. When Derek sets a plate full of food in front of him, Stiles grumbles, “Dad wants you over for dinner.” He adds, “I’m not even standing right now, how am I supposed to sit at the dinner table, Derek. This is your fault.” 

“Do you need a pillow?” 

“Fuck off, Derek,” he says, shoving food in his mouth and half-hearyedly glaring at Derek. 

Derek holds out a hand and says, “Give me your arm.” 

Stiles’ eyes widen and he’s pushing his hand toward Derek greedily. “Oh, that, yes, yes, please. Take it all.” Stiles lets out a filthy moan as Derek leeches the pain away. 

“Thank the Gods that my soon-to-be husband is a werewolf.” 

“Husband,” Derek questions fondly. 

“Oh, yeah, didn’t someone tell you? Yeah, you can’t get rid of me. Especially if you already came insi—” 

“Stiles,” Derek says, almost a growl.” 

“W—What—” 

Derek pulls his hand aweay and says, “I don’t think your father wants to hear that.” He’s pointedly looking toward the door and all the color drains from his face. 

Stiles turns around and his dad’s standing just inside the open door, how did Derek not notice that thing opening? “Hey, Dad, did you, uh—what did you hear?” 

The Sheriff looks positively uncomfortable and says, “Enough.” 

Stiles turns back around and puts his head in his hands, muttering, “I’m never going to live this down.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and such.


End file.
